


A Drinking Buddy (To Get You Through)

by Claytonator



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Fluff, TARDIS ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:24:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claytonator/pseuds/Claytonator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose finds the TARDIS has a bar, and she and the Doctor just keep ending up there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drinking Buddy (To Get You Through)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the TARDIS Ficathon over on Tumblr, I had the prompt 'wine cellar/bar/liquor room' from honeytreee, and it was great fun to write! It's in three parts, each one with a different Doctor, as if he never got a new companion and Rose had continued travelling with him through these regenerations. I hope you enjoy it!

1. 

Rose knew the Doctor wasn’t having a good day. She could tell from the bunch of his shoulders, the set of his jaw, the clench of his fists. So as he bid her goodnight and wandered off into the depths of the TARDIS, she didn’t think anything of it. He just needed to blow off some steam and then he’d be fine the next day.

When she shut her book and decided it was time for her to go to sleep a short while later, she assumed he was already in bed. In her drowsiness, she took a left when she should have taken a right along one of the many identical corridors, and ended up finding herself completely lost. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and she mentally kicked herself for not having paid more attention to where she was going. Now it would take her twice as long to get back to her bedroom. Sighing in frustration and putting her trust in the TARDIS that she’d find the right way, she kept walking.

She paused as she passed yet another closed door, cocking her head to listen. There it was again. The glug of a long pull from a bottle and its ensuing clink on the bar surface. Huh. She hadn’t known the TARDIS had a bar. Pushing the door gently, it swung open silently, revealing what looked like a traditional English pub. The dimly lit room was cluttered with tables and stools, one wall full of bottles of wine and liquors and spirits she’d never heard of, and sitting with his head in his hands at the bar was the Doctor. A half empty bottle of whisky stood open next to him.

Rose stared in shock. As she watched from the doorway, unnoticed by the Doctor, he took hold of the bottle. His leather jacket creased at his elbow as he took another swig, rubbing at his furrowed brow with his other hand. He half shook his head, as if dismissing an idea, or trying to shake an image out of his head. Rose chewed on her lip, unsure if she should take a step into the room or take a step out. But then the TARDIS made the decision for her, jolting a little in her otherwise smooth space journey, forcing Rose to lurch unsteadily into the room.

Rose’s sudden movement alerted the Doctor and he glanced up to see her attempting to regain her balance. He half laughed at her, a reflex reaction which didn’t fit with his mood. She rolled her eyes at him and lightly punched him in the arm as she sat down next to him at the bar.

“I didn’t know the TARDIS had a bar,” she commented, before taking a drink of the Doctor’s whisky and grimacing at the burn in her throat.

The Doctor didn’t reply, simply took the bottle off her and took another gulp himself.

“How much of that have you drunk? And how come you’re not completely hammered by now?”

“I’ve got the constitution of an ox.”

“That didn’t answer my first question. Why are you even trying to get drunk anyway? Haven’t you ever heard of ‘don’t drink and drive’?”

“I think technically this counts as flying, not driving.”

“Whatever. My point still stands. Why are you drinking?”

He shrugged, not willing to talk about it. Besides, even if he did, it wasn’t like Rose could even begin to understand. She was fantastic, of course she was, but she hadn’t seen what he had seen. She hadn’t lived through the Time War. Gods, the things he had seen…

Rose wasn’t about to take no for an answer though, and she poured him a glass of orange juice, placing it in front of him before confiscating the bottle.

“I’m not travelling with you if you’re a drunk, Doctor. So. What’s wrong?”

And there it was. Loyal, dependable Rose, not fazed by what was happening, just demanding answers, like she always did. The Doctor sighed. He knew she wouldn’t let him out of there until he’d told her the truth.

“I’m not a traveller Rose. I’m a soldier.” He paused, trying to order the words in his head before he said anything at all. He spoke carefully, as if he was watching for her reaction at every syllable before moving on to the next. “There was a war, on my planet, on Gallifrey. The Last Great Time War, they called it. It wasn’t like a human war. No, it was much, much worse…”

Rose sat and listened. And the more she heard, the more she understood why the Doctor had sought out the alcohol. If she’d been him, she certainly would have done the same. So she sat beside him, and listened, and gave him back the bottle when his throat got dry, and she held his hand as he told her everything.

2.

He was different after he regenerated. Not bad different, or good different, just…different. Rose would catch glimpses of the man she had first met, every now and then. After her initial shock had worn off, she realised he really _was_ the same man, but she was just seeing different aspects of him now. And well, she wasn’t about to complain about his hair anytime soon either.

The wonder of travelling with the Doctor hadn’t changed one bit though. That was still the same – the amazement every time she stepped out of those blue doors to find a new land, a new time, a new adventure.

So it wasn’t like today was any different to any of that. But still, Rose found herself storming off from the Doctor the minute they were back in the TARDIS, trying desperately to hold it together. Her hands were shaking and her eyes prickling with tears she knew would fall if she dared try to speak. So instead she walked. Away from the Doctor, and into the TARDIS.

She didn’t even know how she found it again, the bar, except she did, and then suddenly it was the only thing which mattered. She let her weary legs collapse underneath her, dropping onto a stool, as the adrenaline of the day left her body in a rush. It was quiet, and dark, and she was alone. She didn’t need to pretend that she was okay anymore.

She hadn’t even been thinking about drinking when she’d gone into the room, but when she realised that’s what she was doing, the little voice inside her head said _‘one drink won’t do any harm, it might even calm you down a little’_ and she didn’t argue, tipping more vodka into her glass. She didn’t even really like vodka but it was there, and it was close by, so vodka it was. She took a quick gulp, relishing the way it ignited her throat, letting out a deep breath as she set the glass down.

Most of the time, she loved travelling with the Doctor. But then there were days like today, when it all became a little bit too _real_ and she realised that she could die on another planet, in another time, and her Mum wouldn’t ever know. Jackie would just be waiting for the return of a daughter who was never going to knock on the door. And that thought terrified her. The Doctor didn’t seem to understand, he was too assured in his ability to protect her, so he didn’t truly realise how much the fear of dying scared Rose. Just today, she’d been locked up, alone, on some alien world, and the Doctor was nowhere to be found when she could hear her guards discussing her likely execution, assuming she couldn’t understand them. The Doctor would never understand the fear that instilled in her heart, because he wasn’t human like her. He tried to be, for her sake, but it was times like this when Rose thought he wouldn’t ever really succeed.  

Rose was startled out of her reverie as the door to the bar opened and the Doctor walked in. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hide the tears brimming in her eyes from him, so she didn’t even try. He crossed the room, wordlessly, and sat down beside her. Slowly, deliberately, as if he were dealing with a scared puppy, he reached out and pulled Rose into a hug.

Neither of them said anything as she cried on his shoulder. They didn’t need to.

 

3.

Rose couldn’t remember whose mad idea it had been to break out the spirits in the bar. She’d been ready to just have a cup of tea and go to bed when the Doctor had bounded into her room, grabbed her hand and tugged her down the corridors. His bow tie was askew and his fringe flopped over his eyes as he led her, laughing, back into the bar.

“Doctor, what are you _doing?_ ” she asked incredulously.

He was searching the shelves, clambering up onto the bar in an attempt to reach the very highest ones He’d take out a bottle, read the label, shake his head and put it back in frustration as he continued his mission.

“I’ve just remembered these fantastic cocktails I had somewhere one time…where was it, I wonder… oh well, and I just _had_ to try and recreate them.”

“So what am _I_ doing here? Oh God, Doctor, am I your guinea pig? I am, aren’t I?”

“‘Course not,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, a bottle clasped in each hand. “You’re a fellow adventurer!”

Rose groaned and put her head between her hands.

“You’re gonna get me pissed, aren’t you?” She winced slightly at the thought of the hangover she was inevitably going to get.

“Don’t look at it like that… think of it as a quest! We are King Arthur’s diligent knights, following his noble orders to find the best cocktail in the universe!”

Rose collapsed into giggles as the Doctor attempted some cocktail shaking moves which will surely only end with broken glass and wasted alcohol. Surprisingly, the Doctor seemed to be fairly competent at mixing with flair, although Rose was sure that was a skill was not going to last long, seeing as he’d already poured them a cocktail each and was working on the next combination before she’d even taken her first sip. Rolling her eyes, she tried the suspiciously blue liquid in the martini glass before her. Huh. Not bad. Not perfect, but not bad either.

“Hey Doctor, let me have a go. I’ve got an idea.”

He tossed the cocktail shaker over to her and she snatched one of the bottles from him, their matching grins of excitement making them look like five year olds who’d just seen a bouncy castle at their birthday party.  

It was some time later, as they were dancing to the equivalent of alien pop music blaring out of the bar’s sound system, that Rose questioned whose idea it had been to get drunk on crazy cocktail combinations. Then she realised she didn’t care, and carried on dancing. 


End file.
